Viktory is Not Sweet
by Shiori07
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky won the Grand Prix Final. Great. He had gotten his message across to that piglet to regret ever even thinking about retirement. But now he's regretting it because his life as a professional figure skater currently consists of embarrassing, overly-affectionate company and exercise for his gag reflex. But in his "company's" opinion he didn't have much room to talk.


Author's note: Hello, everyone and Merry Christmas! And Happy Birthday, Victor :) Thanks for clicking on my very first YoI story. It's my first time writing these characters, so they may not be perfect, but I hope you like it! I have a few other ideas for stories for this fandom (which I hope continues to blow up as it has been doing. This is such a great fandom), but for now, let's see how this one goes... And yes, this was titled ironically on purpose ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice.

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 **~Viktory is Not Sweet~**

Yuri Plisetsky hated Christmas.

Now usually, he didn't mind the holiday as it had been a convenient time of year when he could visit his grandfather and enjoy some down time in his home country of Russia. But right now, right in this very moment, he hated everything about this damned holiday because he was _forced_ to spend it at a resort with every person he had ever hated in his entire lifetime as a professional figure skater.

…Well, ok. "Hate" was a bit of an exaggeration. He could at the very least tolerate and, in some cases, respect some of the other skaters he had met in his travels, but for all intents and purposes publically declared, he hated them with every fiber of his being.

"Come now, Yurio, cheer up!" Viktor Nikiforov urged as he passed him a glass of eggnog, smiling brightly. "It's Christmas! And it's my birthday. You shouldn't be sulking in a corner by yourself. Drink up."

In response, Yuri lifted his leg ballerina-style and slammed his heel onto the table.

Barely fazed, Viktor picked the cup up before it could spill and smiled at him. "You could have just said no."

"But that wouldn't have had the same effect, would it?" the shorter blond growled, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at his fellow Russian.

The older man offered the drink again, careful to keep it at least a foot out of Yuri's striking range. "At least a sip?"

When the foot lifted, hovering threateningly over the table's surface, Viktor put the cup down and held it in his lap. Lips twitching in a smirk of triumph, Yuri placed his foot down again.

"I don't even know why you would offer that to me when I'm a minor. The drinking age in Japan is twenty, idiot."

"But this isn't alcoholic," Viktor insisted, lifting the cup to his nose to sniff at it. "At least, I don't think it is."

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "Well who did you put in charge of the drinks? Cuz if it was Chris, it's definitely spiked."

The man blinked, and Yuri sighed as he had his answer. "Great, well just don't let the piglet get into the drinks by himself then. We all know he can't hold his alcohol worth—"

"Viiiiiicchaaan! Come d-dancccee with me!"

"Aaaand you left him on his own. Great job."

Viktor let out a sigh, but there was a touch of a smile on his lips as he set his drink down and stood from his chair. "I guess I better go watch him then."

"You do that." Yuri watched as the senior figure skater walked across the room, weaving through the crowd where Yuuri Katsuki could be seen unmistakably sloshing eggnog across a table and slurring for his beloved "Vicchan." They had been like this (at least similarly while sober) ever since that nonsense at the last Grand Prix Final when that piglet had had the nerve to actually consider retiring. Now that he had decided to continue his skating career and Viktor made his return, the two of them had become inseparable, training together all the time and even going the distance of _living together_ like a pair of newlyweds. To be honest, Yuri hadn't much cared about that in the beginning or what kind of relationship they may or may not have had. But _then,_ then he was seeing them _all the time_ and it gradually escalated and began to grate on his nerves. They were obviously so into each other he found it sickening.

As he watched Viktor finally reach the other end of the room, Yuuri stumbled over to him, glass of eggnog long forgotten on the table as he flung his arms around the taller man, pressing their bodies flush together and face getting extremely close to Viktor's. But Viktor didn't seem to mind, smiling fondly at Yuuri and wrapping his arms around his waist to steady him. Leaning just an inch, he placed a kiss on the younger's forehead and began speaking to him in a low tone of voice, like he was chiding Yuuri for drinking too much and soothing him into drinking a glass of water so he could sober up.

Back in his corner, Yuri leaned over the floor and made a gagging motion into the back of his throat with his finger hoping they would notice him. God, he was actually starting to regret winning the Grand Prix Final.

The soft _thunk_ on the wooden table beside him made Yuri look up. Otabek Altin stood beside his chair, hand moving away from the cup he had obviously just placed down in favor of cradling his own. He leaned back against the table with one hand bracing himself, body half facing Yuri as he took a sip of clear liquid and looked down at the blond. A glint shone in his onyx eyes, showing his amusement at what he had just witnessed the prima-ballerina doing.

"What?" Yuri snapped, or would have snapped if it had been anyone but Otabek. The Kazakhstani skater was really the only person in the world besides his grandfather that Yuri actually didn't mind spending time with, so his attempts at brashness never seemed to reach their full potential.

Otabek shrugged and went back to sipping his drink, staring out at the gathering of their fellow skaters with mild interest.

Rolling his eyes, Yuri glanced at the drink that had been delivered and tilted it toward him. "Is this alcohol?"

"No, it's water," the eighteen-year-old answered evenly. "I knew you wouldn't appreciate it if I had gotten you alcohol, so I didn't take any chances with the drinks and got water from the kitchen."

"Hmm, thanks," Yuri grunted, picking up the glass and taking a sip. The drink might not have been as fancy and festive as what was called for at a Christmas party, but it wasn't alcoholic and Otabek had actually put some thought into getting it for him. It was nice.

It was quiet between the two of them for a moment, and Yuri absently took to studying the scene surrounding them. He could now see Yuuri and Viktor doing a sloppy slow dance in the middle of the room, Yuuri hanging all over the older man and Viktor looking completely happy with the situation (gag). A ways from them, JJ and his newly married wife stood arm-in-arm in front of Leo and Sala, talking about something or other that Yuri didn't much care for imagining. Chris was nearby, doing a dance that Yuri _definitely_ would not care to even attempt to describe, some girls and a few guys staring at him red-faced and in awe. Behind them, or rather hiding behind them, was Phichit Chulanont, suspiciously tucked away in a corner with his phone out and… did he just take a picture of Viktor and Yuuri dancing?

If Yuri had tried, he probably could have named some other people he knew among the coaches and various other people attending, but right then, he could only groan and let his head fall beyond the back of his chair. He was surrounded by idiots.

He sensed someone looking at him, and straightened up to meet Otabek's dark gaze, the Kazakhstani's eyebrow quirked up in a question and a bit of amusement. Well, ok, he was surrounded by idiots and one decent person. Otabek was all right.

"Something wrong?" the aforementioned skater asked.

Yuri sent him a halfhearted glare. "You know what's wrong. I'm at a stupid party surrounded by stupid people doing stupid things."

"That's a lot of stupidity."

"Right?"

Otabek's lips twitched up in a smile. "We can get out of here later. We should at least stay long enough to be polite and then I'll take you wherever you want."

The blond, prima ballerina genuinely smiled at the thought of jumping on Otabek's black motorcycle and just taking off, just the two of them, just like they had back in Barcelona. "Promise?"

The older skater continued to smirk at him, and it looked like he would have said something if not for the sudden and violent interruption provided by a certain couple that sat at their table.

"Maybe you should sit down, Yuuri," Viktor suggested, pulling back the chair he had previously occupied and attempting to place Yuuri in it.

"Nooo!" the Japanese groaned, clinging to Viktor's front to act like he was resisting even though his legs readily sat down. "Dance a little longer."

"After you've sobered up a little," Viktor promised, smiling fondly as he brushed some platinum blond hair out of his face. "I'll go get some water while you wait here. Yurio, could you please watch Yuuri while I'm gone? Thank you."

"I didn't say I agreed!" the younger Russian called after him as he left with his charming smile. Vein ticking in his temple, Yuri turned to the drunk man sitting across from him.

Yuuri briefly looked miffed that Viktor had left him, but his attention quickly caught on Yuri and all else was forgotten. "Hi, Yurio," he said, leaning his chin in his hand. "Are you enjoying the party?"

The younger snorted. "No. Now drink," he commanded, sliding his glass across the table with one finger toward Yuuri.

"Thanks," the man answered, deliberately taking the cup with both hands and gulping down several mouthfuls. When it dropped from his lips and thunked on the table again, Yuuri glared at the younger skater over his glasses, a faint, rosy dust covering his cheeks. "But why don't you like the party? Viktor and I took so long to plan it."

"In case you forgot, _piglet,_ no one consulted me when they decided to host this little social gathering. I'm sorry if I don't find it to my liking."

"Don't call me "piglet!"" Yuuri protested, standing suddenly and leaning over the table. "I've slimmed down a lot since the time we've met and Viktor's practically been my warden when it comes to watching my diet!"

"That doesn't change the first impression you made on me a year ago. Drink," Yuri demanded. Absently, he reached over to swipe his own drink off the table, but paused when he remembered he had given it away. Beside him, Otabek finally sat down, placing his drink down and sliding it over to his friend. Without much thought, Yuri picked up the glass and brought it to his lips to drink from.

Across from them, Yuuri watched the exchange, a grin forming on his face as he leaned against his hand again with a sigh.

"What?"

"Nothing. That was just really cute."

"Cute?!" Yuri exclaimed, leaning forward threateningly with Otabek's glass still clutched in his hand. But when his grip tightened and he actually noticed that, he looked down at the drink, then at Otabek who was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Yuri could have sworn his was smirking again.

Placing the cup down, Yuri pushed it back over towards the Kazakhstani with the back of his hand, turning his attention to the floor and ignoring the subtle heat flushing over his face.

"I'm back~!" Viktor sang, holding a glass of water in each hand, Phichit following right behind him with two more. "Oh. Thank you for giving Yuuri your water, Yurio. Sorry about that."

"'S fine," Yuri grumbled. He didn't wait for Viktor to place the cups on the table and instead snatched one from his hand, sipping it and not making eye contact with anyone at the table. Blinking, Viktor glanced at Yuuri, who grinned at him and not so subtly gestured toward Otabek. Seeming to understand, the older man smiled and took a seat next to Yuuri.

Cheerily, Phichit took the next available seat next to Viktor. Normally he would have sat next to Yuuri, but this was a better call as _that seat_ was well within range of the Fairy of Russia's wrath. Speaking of which,

"Yurio," Viktor began, "you shouldn't leave your foot on the table. It's impolite." Yuri lifted his other foot from the ground and promptly propped it on top of his other one. Viktor sighed, but smiled like he expected nothing less.

"How long do we have to stay?" was Yuri's verbal response.

"You want to leave?" the other Russian whined as he simultaneously gestured for Yuuri to continue drinking his water. "But we're all having so much fun."

Yuri simply raised an eyebrow and Viktor gave in.

"Alright. I guess you can leave after we exchange Secret Santa gifts."

"But not before we all visit the hot springs," Yuuri insisted, who looked at least a little bit more sober now. "Viktor and I agreed that should be part of the bonding and socializing events. And anyway, it's a good scheduled time for all of us to bathe before going to sleep. We're all staying at this resort anyway."

"I thought I told you before," Yuri began, "I don't like the idea of bathing in a room full of a bunch of other people. Me and Otabek will just go later."

"Just you and me?" the mentioned skater asked, glancing over at Yuri curiously.

"Well, yeah. The point of these hot springs is to enjoy them with someone else. And anyway, I actually know you, so doing that will be much less awkward."

"So… you wouldn't mind if I saw you naked?"

The blond blinked, turning to look at Otabek and _that was definitely a smirk he was not imagining it!_

"Uh, I guess not," Yuri admitted, trying to keep his voice cool and level despite the flush returning to his cheeks. God, what was wrong with him?! It was just Otabek, why was he getting so hot and bothered?!

Across the table, their three tablemates exchanged glances.

"So, Viktor, when exactly are we planning on heading to the hot springs?" Yuuri asked.

"In about an hour," the older man answered, glancing at the clock on the wall. Then, grinning, he turned on Yuuri. "Why? Are you just dying to get into the bath with me?" Very, very suggestively, Viktor leaned to his left and hovered over the Japanese figure skater, body touching his and nose a hair's breadth away from the other's.

Under normal circumstances, Yuuri would either be a blushing, fumbling mess or be too surprised and flustered to answer coherently (at least right away), but with the convenient aid of alcohol, his flirting skills were on point.

"Maybe." He leaned even closer to Viktor, pushing his nose past his and touching their foreheads together, lips dangerously close, almost skimming each other. "I've just been thinking and I found there were _several things_ I was dying to do in the bath with you. Wanna experiment?"

"I was waiting for you to ask," Viktor returned smoothly. "There are a few things I've been thinking about that I would like to share too."

Yuri groaned loudly, head thrown back to the ceiling. "God, why do you guys have to be so gay in public? Just get a room already!"

"Good idea, Yurio," the other Russian acknowledged before turning his attention back to the man who's lap he was practically sitting on. "What do you say, Yuuri? Bath or bedroom first?"

"Hmm. Honestly, it depends. How hot do you want it?"

There was a soft click. "Whoops, just posted that."

"What? Wait, Phichit-kun!" Yuuri exclaimed, actually blushing this time as he looked over at his best friend. The Thai boy shrugged innocently, not so innocently scrolling through twitter on his phone.

"Ugh." Yuri was not looking forward to seeing that in his feed. "You know what, whatever, we're leaving now." Swinging his legs down, the blond stood up and swiftly grabbed Otabek's wrist, tugging him up. "Come on, Beka."

Blinking, Otabek stood from his chair, allowing Yuri to lead him away from the table. Politely, he turned and nodded a farewell at their previous companions, then didn't look back as he was pulled out of the room.

There was another small click. "I may or may not have posted that too."

Yuuri sighed and closed his eyes, though he didn't seem as upset this time. "Phichit-kun."

"Do you think we should, you know, tell them? Or at least give them a hint?"

"Hmm, maybe," Viktor answered, staring after the two thoughtfully. "But only if we get desperate. Besides." Turning, he set a dazzling smile on Yuuri. "Finding out is half the fun."

The Japanese skater blushed again, though it was very faint.

Viktor then transitioned as easily and gracefully as he did a quadruple toe loop. "So. Yuuri," he said, voice low and somewhat sultry as he leaned in again. "Do you think we should wait to go in the bath with the others, or," he placed a hand on his thigh, "should we go to bed early?"

Yuuri swallowed. "Well… I am feeling tired."

Viktor smirked, which he only did in particular situations. Like the one they were in right now. Pointedly, he and Yuuri turned their gazes on their remaining seatmate.

"…Hey! Is that Guang-Hong over there?" Phichit suddenly asked very loudly. "I better go say hi and conveniently leave you two alone." With that, the boy got up from the table and was gone.

Still smiling, Viktor turned back to Yuuri. "Shall we?"

Yuuri was up and walking out of the room as soon as Viktor let him stand.

Before they left however, a miniscule _snap_ came from across the room. Phichit had taken a selfie, a hand covering what was obviously a mischievous smile, Yuuri and Viktor's retreating forms in the background. Writing the caption, he put "Wonder what they're up to ;)"

Tapping the post button, Phichit smiled. Yep, he was definitely feeling good about himself tonight.

Meanwhile, outside, Yuri had stepped out into the winter night, breathing in the crisp, cold air deeply. It was good to be out of such a crowded space. Feeling Otabek's wrist slip from his hand, Yuri glanced over and watched as his friend began making his way over to the parking lot, slipping on a leather jacket as he went.

"Where are you going?"

The Kazakhstani glanced over his shoulder, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I did say I would take you wherever you wanted after we left the party right?"

At his words, Yuri grinned. "Hell, yes! Let's go."

Jogging, he easily caught up with Otabek, who was kind enough to grab his jacket for him before leaving the building, and walked the short distance to the black motorcycle parked close to the entrance. There, the older skater took a helmet from the handle of his bike, tossed it to Yuri, and picked up his own. Soon enough, the two of them were seated on the bike, the Russian blond sitting in the back with his arms around the driver to secure himself in place, and with a twist of a key and the rev of the engine, they sped off into the night.

For Yuri Plisetsky, his Christmas experience this year was looking up.

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A/N: I love Victuuri, but I really do ship OtaYuri too, sue me.

Well, please review and tell me what you thought!


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